Saturday, March 31, 2007

The Burden of an Education

My wife and parents can finally put their incessant badgering to rest. I’ve finally broke down and decided to seek a job teaching history to high school students. They, my parents and wife, are members of that ever shrinking demographic who think one should use their degree after it is earned. I can’t help but laugh to myself at the thought of such a preposterous notion. They have not yet clued in to the fact that recently the degree is just societies way of justifying four years (7 for me) of a zero contribution to community or economy. “Sure I’ve sapped government funds for the last four years, but I can do algebra.”

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t appreciate my education because I do. I like the superior feeling it gives me when compared to all the stupids out there. It’s not the degree certificate I don’t appreciate either. I tried to remain humble by leaving it inconspicuously among old school memorabilia, but my mom found it while helping us move and put it behind mat, glass, and frame. Now it hangs above my desk, like a beacon of light and a constant reminder of what I’m not living up too. But, I have always been a person most comfortable while sitting on laurels. So I am not shamed, but rather, contently satisfied.

It reads, "Utah Valley State College bla bla bla something about virtue of authority bla bla bla confers on The UnMighty the degree of Bachelor of Science History Education bla bla bla 2004."

I look at my reflection in the glass, wipe away a smudge with my thumb, and smile. It makes the whole room reek of prestige. So as you can see, I appreciate the degree. What I don’t appreciate is my degree’s long-term relevance and it’s earning power. First let us consider its long-term practicality.

Statistics taken from 2005 showed that the average length of a teacher’s career in the U.S. was 5 years. Many burn out well before their 2-year mark. One may attempt to attribute this to the growing feeling of evil and unruly behavior in today’s youth but a broader look at the American workplace will show that it is partly due to a major cultural paradigm shift; a new and growing philosophy that says, “only stay as long as its novel, then move on and try something else.” The U.S. Department of Labor statistics show that workers between the ages of 18 and 38 change jobs an average of 10 times. That’s a different job every 2 years. Worker longevity is not like it was in the old days. I’m a testament to this truth. I’ve be a waiter, a common laborer, a camp counselor, a snowmobile guide, a ski instructor, a river guide, a farrier, a musician, a guitar teacher, an improv comedy club owner, and most recently, a writer. (And if the four people that read this blog would just recruit 10,000 people each I could make some money here.)

With these stats in mind one may wonder, why specialize? It seems superfluous unless you plan to work in an ultra specialized field like Left Frontal Lobe Brian Surgeon (That is someone who only operates on the left frontal lobe of a guy named Brian. (And you thought I misspelled brane.)) Wouldn’t you be better off just taking whatever variety of classes interests you most? The answer is yes and no. Yes, because you would be better off, and no because there is little chance my spouse would have allowed me to remain outside the work force had my school load been made up of classes like Latin dance, mountaineering, scuba diving, photography, and drum lessons. (These briefly describe the first three years of my college education.)

To the WW II generation and their baby boomer children a 30-year stint in one profession was commonplace. Learn a trade, or maybe get a liberal degree and go to work 9 to 5 until you retire and your kids take you to Sizzler to celebrate. But that is not the case anymore. A growing sense of wonder-lust combined with the ever-burgeoning tech and service industries have given us the excuse to professionally come and go as we please. These statistics also fuel the question; why specialize? It just doesn’t seem reasonable to spend 4 years preparing for something you’re only going to spend 2 years doing. It is almost as lopsided as the wedding night phenomenon. (You wonder and prepare with jittery anticipation from adolescence only to find yourself lying on your back wide-eyed with confusion two minutes after it started.)

Now let us consider the earning power of a teaching degree. It is no secret that the pay is less than equal to the job. The word “sucks” comes to mind. But to make teachers feel better about their financial situation, people with paying jobs give them magnanimous titles. “Sure the state won’t pay you more, but we can give you a title. How does ‘noble’ sound?” When socializing in a group of mixed incomes they throw around words like “rewarding,” “virtuous,” and “inner satisfaction.” But in my heart of hearts I would happily trade “rewarding” for a car made post 1980. This type of rewarding doesn’t buy the kids birthday gifts and makes parents tell lies like “using your imagination will make you a more interesting person” which we all know isn’t true because poor people aren’t interesting unless they’re in a Charles Dickens book.

That said, my resume is in the hands of over sixty people and if my parents have their way one will call and offer me a job. And one day, years down the road, I will be sitting next to my son, dusting off his char-covered marshmallow and he’ll look up at me with puppy-dog eyes and ask, “Dad, why do we only go on vacation to the KOA?” to which I’ll respond, “Because daddy has inner satisfaction.”

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